


Thicker Than Water

by Wresther



Category: The Wire
Genre: Friendship, Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon, a power couple is born
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wresther/pseuds/Wresther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon's only been running for a month, but he knows more about the game than this skinny kid ever will. Somebody has to show him the ropes.</p><p>(Pre-series.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musamihi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musamihi/gifts).



"Ey yo Donny! Big Tip!" Avon jogged over to the lieutenants shouting at the scrawny, visibly terrified boy in front of them. "Why you doggin him like that? What he do? He just a kid."  
  
Donny laughed long and loud at that one. "He the same age as you, little man."  
  
Avon scowled. He hated when they laughed him off just 'cause he was young. He was only a runner for now, but he was better than the runners twice his age, stronger and faster, and he was gonna keep working hard, earning respect, till he could show them all he was blood in more than just name. More than just some little brother Donny had to watch out for.  
  
He shook his head doggedly. "For real though. Why you on his ass? He ain't from around here but the code is the code. Plus he look like he gonna blow over if you holler at him any louder."  
  
The skinny brother gave Avon a real hard glare for that one. Okay, so maybe he was tougher than he looked.  
  
Donny was glaring, too, straight at the kid. "Booker T junior here come down into our territory, start spitting numbers he been learning in math class. Fixing to tell us how to run our shit like he ain't brand new! Don't concern youself, little man, we ain't hurtin' him or nothing. We just letting him know real well he gotta show respect if he gonna come down in here. He lucky he so young, and we be who we be – you know he step to any other crew and he ain't _never_ walking outta there as whole as he come in."  
  
"Can I say something?"  
  
Donny wheeled on the kid and slipped back into his scary-deep bellow. "NO, man! Ain't you learnt nothin? Keep your mouth shut and roll on out. Unless you hurting for us to change our minds and beat your ass."  
  
The boy huffed out a frustrated breath, like he wasn't the one skirting death here, and Avon found himself grinning a little. Kid surely was courting a whooping, like it was his calling, but hell if he even seemed to notice anymore. The fear that pulled Avon over to begin with had up and left the boy's face entirely, only a peevish kind of determination remaining.  
  
It was a determination that was gonna leave him spitting up teeth, though; Avon knew the limits of Donny's patience better than anybody, and Skinny here was pushing it. So many other crews assumed that because Melvin's people followed the code like it was a religion – no fucking up kids or mamas, no guns on Sundays, no slinging or warring in neutral territory like schoolgrounds, the corner outside the barbershop, and so on – that they must be soft, that they'd fold easy.    
  
Avon had been running with them for less than a month, but he was already proud to know different. He'd seen a real shootout just last week, and every member of the crew walked out whole. Worst casualties were a couple of leg and shoulder wounds that would heal up soon. Dizzy's people, on the other hand…most of them didn't walk out at all.  
  
Back before Avon started running, Donny had insisted he go to school with Brianna every day. Avon did the elementary school thing obediently enough, but once he hit sixth grade he was supposed to be old enough to finally get in the game! Donny hadn't seen it that way, though, and Avon wasted a whole year boredly skipping out of class before his brother finally relented. But even back then, every night before they went to sleep, Avon would get his brother to tell him what happened in the tower that day. He knew everything that went on in these streets, thanks to Donny – well, what went on in this block, at least - and Melvin's crew came out on top every time. Donny always said it was sticking to their rules, doing the game right, that kept 'em sharp, strong, and they had to be the strongest, sharpest crew in Baltimore. Avon only knew the West Side crews by name, but he was sure of it. He just _knew_ , deep-like.  
  
But those rules came down from on high, and Donny could respect them without always following them to the letter. Big boss didn't like that, and Donny had gotten demoted once for it already, working over Charlie, this total fuckup of a runner who unfortunately happened to be eleven. The kid here was probably banking on Avon's mention of the code being enough to keep his ass safe, but Avon knew better; Donny's temper was what it was, after all. And so it was as much to protect his big brother as the skinny brother beside him that Avon decided to take things into his own hands.  
  
He turned to the sulky little scrap of boy and slipped on his best warm easy grin.  
  
"Aight, so now we got all that squared, business ain't just gonna run itself. Where you live at, Skinny? What you say I get you back there and let Donny and Tip return to the important shit."  
  
Donny whooped at him, good mood restored. "Look at him, Tip, bein' all _professional_. Wish he done be taking he school studies this serious!"  
  
Tip rumbled with laughter, and Avon found himself bristling. But before he could respond, the kid piped up, face pinched with a scowl of his own.  
  
"I don't need no babysitter. I can get myself home just fine. _Little man._ "  
  
That should have made Avon madder, but something about this sour-looking little punk kid trying to rile him up just made him bite back another smile.  
  
"You tripping? Cmon, man, these streets is rough and no way is you packing. Ain't you never heard the term, 'strength in numbers'? Sides, I ain't got nothing to do till our man get here with the reup. Let me go with you and…and you can tell me all about whatever you was trying to get Donny and Tip to hear."  
  
He was surprised Donny didn't laugh some more at his uncharacteristic display of charity, but he was probably just relieved Avon was getting the kid out of their hair.  
  
Anyway, that did it. Skinny's eyes lit up, before he must've noticed he was actually looking happy and pulled his surly face back on, and he gave a curt little nod.  
  
“Ok. But you gotta _really_ listen, no deciding you ain't interested and cutting me off.”  
  
 _You a nerdy little motherfucker, ain't you_? Avon fought not to show his amusement, and nodded solemnly back at him. “Deal. So where we going?”  
  
**  
  
The kid was so eager to get heard before they started walking, but he seemed almost shy now. Certainly he was quiet. It was clear he wasn't gonna talk without a little prompting. Which Avon could exploit - not have to pretend to listen to his dried up math talk - but he was a brother of his word.  
  
“So what yo name, anyway?”  
  
“Russell...” the kid told him. “Kids at school called me Stringer, though.”  
  
“That because you so stringy-limbed and all?” Avon laughed.  
  
“Nah, man, fuck you! It's cause I be good with numbers, long strings of 'em.”  
  
“Aw, that ain't as cool but I guess it make sense too. I'm Avon.”  
  
“I know...suppose you don't remember, but you sat in front of me in English last year for a whole week.”  
  
“You serious? Must be the only week I actually done go into the school building!” Brianna basically bullied him into it, talking bout how she wasn't gonna be the only one trying to pull their asses out of the ghetto in this family and if he didn't go to his classes she'd snitch to Donny on him. The first time he came to her for homework help, though, she let it go. He was still proud of coming up with that so fast.  
  
Numbers boy here probably _liked_ school, on the other hand, and...hey, wait a minute! “Yo, hold up!” Nuh uh. “You mean we...we in the same grade? For real?”  
  
“Yeah, so what?”  
  
“So,” Avon floundered. “So...what month you born in?”  
  
“April. Why you care?”  
  
“HA!!!” He punched the air in victory. “I KNEW I was older than you, Skinny!! No way you not a kid.”  
  
The kid's scowl was back. “Just 'cause you a runner you think you full grown? We _twelve_ , g. And I told you, it's Stringer.”  
  
Avon clapped him on the back, happy to still be the one with some experience around here.  
  
“Aight, aight. Stringer. So you wanna tell me what you nearly done and got yourself wrecked over? I thought you was hurting for an audience, bad.”  
  
Stringer glared a little more, but set in quick enough this time. “First off, I didn't learn that shit in no math class. I learned it on my own. And if your boss man woulda just _listened_ , he coulda learned something too. All I'm trying to do is help y'all do better business.”  
  
“What's wrong with our business? We the best crew on the block, man!”  
  
“I know. That's why I - “  
  
“You know?” Avon was impressed (and a little pleased). “How you know that, if you be spending your days in English class, and all?”  
  
Stringer rolled his eyes. “I ain't in school anymore, neither. Why else you think I'm down here? Looking for work, and I don't wanna jump in with just any ol crew, so I been checking how you all run things.”  
  
“And we the best?”  
  
“You the best.” Avon beamed. (He _knew_ it!) “Far as I see it, anyway. But you could be _better_. That's all I done try to explain to your man Donny.”  
  
“I feel you man, I feel you, but you going about it all wrong. You can't come on in and try to run shit just cause your math grade good and all. Bank is sweet but it ain't up to us to change how we get it.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Why - “ Avon laughed, incredulous. “Because that ain't how it's _done_ , man! I'm a runner, and you ain't even that. How you gonna come down in here and try to tell someone like Donny what to do?” He was amazed this boy thought he belonged in the game at all, attitude like that. “I got dreams too, but you gotta work your way up, pay yo dues, earn that spot where you can be the one talking 'stead of listening.” Stringer's expression was growing more rebellious, so Avon tried to gentle his tone a bit. “Look, man, Donny started out as a runner, too. Told me the story so many times I can tell it myself. And when you disrespect him, and his place in the business, you disrespecting what he went through to get where he is now. Even if you think, just cause you good at numbers, you know more than someone like him about what we doing here – trying to make him hear you on that? It like you saying you better than him, than all those fights he come out of alive. Nah, man. Nah.”  
  
Stringer's forehead was all scrunched in, like he was thinking real hard about what Avon said. Good.  
  
Eventually his face cleared back up and he nodded. “Aight, I get you. I get you.” He watched Avon for a moment, trying to read him, then looked away awkwardly. “You know I never actually told you where we going.”  
  
Avon stopped short. “What, you get us lost or something?” As if things could get any more smooth and easy with this kid.  
  
“No, man. It. It only that...I don't actually got nowhere to go.”  
  
What? “Where you been living? You gotta be sleeping somewhere.”  
  
“I told you, I been checking y'all out. I sleep where I find to sleep. Last night I stayed in one of the towers where your crew at.”  
  
This crazy brother! “Why you make us come all the way out here then, huh?!?”  
  
Stringer shrugged. “Ain't wanna say it in front of your boss dudes. Thought it might make 'em madder.”  
  
He said it so unconcerned, made it sound so obvious and simple, Avon couldn't help but laugh and shake off the anger. “Yeah, suppose it just might.”  
  
He wasn't really sure what to do now, though. He needed to get back; the reup had happened by now for sure. But it wasn't like he wanted to leave some homeless kid alone on a corner, either. “Um, so. How long you been in the wind?”  
  
“About two weeks. I ran away, that's all. Not like it always been this way.”  
  
“Oh, yeah, I...I get you. Cool.”  
  
Stringer watched him consideringly, but didn't elaborate.

Avon didn't want to press if it was a touchy subject, but he got the sense Stringer was maybe looking to tell someone what happened, but just like before, got all shy about the shit he wanted to share most.

Only one way to find out, he supposed. "So like...where you come from, anyway? Before you run away, I mean."  
  
Stringer responded readily enough, confirming Avon's suspicions. "You know them low rises down on North Grantley? Ours burned down last week, and my foster mom skipped out on me. Guess the checks she get for me ain't enough to cover replacing all the shit she lost in the fire."  
  
Damn. "Rough, man."  
  
"Yeah. I heard they been doing a lot of them that way, that once a neighborhood get too black the landlords rather get their insurance payout than stick around with us. Don't know if it's true, but I know I ain't gonna see Mrs. Jenkins again. Saw little enough of her before the fire."  
  
"So how come you not looking for a new home in the system? Keep yourself in school? Sound like you like it a lot, and shit."  
  
Stringer leaned against the cement of the building they were in front of, and looked up at the sky as he began to talk. “As a kid, my ma used to be real proud of my arithmetic, the way my teachers be telling her I was something special. She thought I was gonna go real far with these skills. I showed off about it, too! Lots. Around then was when I got the name Stringer.” He kicked at the wall behind him. “She gone now, though. And my foster mom...you know how they try adding those special classes to our school? The ones where the kids from good neighborhoods all end up?”  
  
Avon didn't want to tell him he'd never hung around at the school long enough to pay attention to shit like that -  he could hear how important Stringer thought this was - so he just nodded.  
  
“Well, I decide I'm gonna test into the good math section. Figure I can show Mrs. Jenkins I'm more than just a check. The test gonna have all this math we ain't never done in class, but I study extra hard for two whole weeks to learn all I need. And when the time comes, I done it! I'm the only student west of Hilton who made it in.”  
  
“So you tell your ma?”  
  
“I tried to, but she ain't really interested in any thing I do. Never really talk to me, throw away the scores I bring home without looking, you know." Sounded kinda sad about it, but kept his face all tough. "But last week, I start thinking over what I'm gonna do, and I remember this girl Ruby from that special math class. She got to talking about her pops one day. He something called a 'consultant'. Getting big money for the shit they developing down at the harbor front, and he not even down there with 'em! He just gives 'em advice on what to do with their money and they pay him _big_. She telling us how he was the only brother from his neighborhood who make it through college, and that's why he get paid so good. He got this fancy degree and all. She gonna be just like him, she say, stay in school through the end, because that's where the real money is, no matter who you are or where you come from.  
  
"Now I don't think she was thinking of kids from the towers when she say that - I sure ain't never had a lot of schooling in my future. But I spend my first day on my own in the library down on Athol, reading anything I can follow about what this consulting shit all about. And you know what? I decide that Ruby, she wrong. You ain't need a degree to make money this way. You just gotta be creative, know where to apply yourself. That's when I remember my real ma telling me about my daddy, too. He lost his life in the game years back, but kept her in fine living right up till his passing. So I decide I'm gonna become a player, just like him.”  
  
Stringer seemed to remember Avon was there again, and straightened up as if coming out of a dream. “Anyway. I ain't got nowhere to live, and I only been in fights with the kids at school, don't know how I'd do on these streets. But I read some good shit in those books, about cash flow, how it ain't just about selling product but about the product you sell and how you sell it, and I know I can make it rain green if I get given a chance. You...you think you can talk to your boss man again for me?”  
  
Avon had to laugh, fondly exasperated. “Man, how you gonna become a player when you still thinkin' lieutenants are the ones who run this game? He ain't a boss, he just...he like the kid the teacher picks to tell the other kids what to do.” That was probably an analogy Stringer could understand.  "And he ain't even my boss, he my brother.”  
  
Stringer looked worse for wear, and after hearing his life story, Avon couldn't blame him. Maybe he could cut the kid a break. "Listen, I gotta get back, but maybe you can stay with us tonight. Ain't like we got more of a right to where we squatting than you. And maybe I can get Donny to give you a chance once he get to know you a little better. You ain't as much of a corny motherfucker as I thought, you know?"  
  
The way Stringer was looking at him now, it was like Avon had told him there was gonna be math where they was going, or something. His whole face changed when he smiled, and this time he wasn't trying to hide it.  
  
"Hey, don't get too happy just yet. You start as a runner, you ain't gonna have time for reading no books. Gonna be working the streets with no one looking nice at you for a good long while. Face some real hard shit, where you gotta keep your wits and your fists about you or you ain't gonna stay alive." He punched Stringer in the arm playfully. "Ain't gonna stay so stringy for much longer, neither. Sure you up for all that?"  
  
The scowl was back again, but it was still edged with that relief, that gratitude. "You best believe I am! Sides, I told you, I done my research." He looked away. "You sure your brother gonna be okay with me staying with you, though?"  
  
"Yeah, he adjust. Long as I get back before they need me and he ain't already have it out for my ass, I mean. Let's head back, aight?"  
  
Stringer nodded, and they set off, retracing their steps. Avon still couldn't believe he made them come this far out before admitting they weren't going nowhere. He shook his head, grinning ruefully.  
  
They walked in silence for a few minutes, little smile never far from Stringer's lips, and Avon felt more like a protective older brother than ever. They might only be a few months apart, and Stringer had the will for the game, that was for sure. But he clearly _needed_ somebody like Avon, to show him how things were done, ease him along and shit. And if Avon had always secretly wanted a little brother of his own, that was just gravy, right?  
  
He was peaking into a bigger grin when Stringer looked at him curiously.  
  
"So what would you do. If you got to be the man, the one nobody allowed to disrespect. What would you do?"  
  
"I have all them soldiers and money at my fingertips? Huh. Suppose I never really thought that far ahead. I know I'd make sure everyone know we the best. Our name be the one to know on the streets, even if we still following the rules of the game. I ain't let us be the only ones holding up our end. And...you know, I was always sure I would make a mean boxer." He jabbed at the air, pow pow! "Maybe if I ain't gotta do so much work to get paid, I can get some training, pay for a real good coach and shit. Take it bigtime. You know."  
  
Stringer started chuckling, looking at Avon like he said something real hilarious.  
  
"What? What’s so funny?"  
  
"Man, you wanna work you ass up in the game so you can become a _boxer_? Why waste your time putting in the years, if you just gonna up and leave when things get sweet?"  
  
"I ain't _leaving_. Got more loyalty than that. Just could do some fighting on the side, dig?" This kid really didn't understand _nothing_. "But I could leave, if I wanted to. It like Donny always say: Live the life, leave the life, ain't no big thing."  
  
"What he mean?"  
  
"He mean…this life, it all just temporary, man. We gonna be done with this by the time we eighteen, living large with all the money we made. You'll see."  
  
"And what if he wrong. What if we ain't done by then, or we ain't live long enough to find out?"  
  
Avon frowned, thinking. "Then...then it still be worth it, 'cause we blood. Years you spend doing your own thing with your people, not having to answer to no teachers or parents? Can't think of one reason to regret that."  
  
"Y'all blood." Stringer muttered quietly, suddenly looking all grim again.  
  
"What you say?"  
  
" _Y'all_ blood. You and your brother and whoever else there is. I ain't got a family like yours, though, and I ain't part of yours just 'cause I stay with you one night."  
  
That was all he was looking so sorry for himself about? Avon was proud to, once again, have all the answers. Stringer might be good at numbers, but Avon was good at this. Bet he could teach String everything he knew, too, if he only stopped giving up so fast. He clapped him on the back. "You got it twisted again, man! Blood ain't about if you born to the same mama or not. It's about who you come up with. Just you wait. Donny let you in, you be blood in no time. And once you blood, you stay blood."  
  
"For good?"  
  
"Forever."  
  
"Forever." Stringer seemed to like that sound of that. "Aight. I'm in."  
  
"You was already in, stringy! Don't try to play it all cool now. I know you practically singing on the inside."  
  
He made as if to pounce on the other boy, got an elbow in the gut for his trouble. Stringer was stronger than he looked - they'd make a gangster of him yet.  
  
He snuck his arm around Stringer's neck and yanked him close, the way Donny sometimes did to him. Stringer shoved him off hard, then started snickering when Avon almost fell on his ass. It went on like that for a while, just horsing around most of the walk back.  
  
The sound of their matched laughter filled the air like youth, and hope, and "forever".

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Laura for looking this over for me and I & D for handholding and cheerleading! 
> 
> I didn't have access to the series when I was writing this; obviously, I drew some on [this scene](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2Fv-nJCfrk) but I could not check if we get confirmation elsewhere in the episode on whether the family member Avon and Dee visit is Avon's father, brother, or uncle. I went with older brother but it's possible that does contradict canon in which case, lol, I guess this story is an AU where that man is Avon's brother.
> 
> There's a lot I wish I had had time to research, to localize and historicize this correctly; as I didn't, it's likely there are some gaping flaws in cultural accuracy. Liberties were knowingly taken, as well, for the sake of plot, consistency with the show itself, and authorial self-indulgence. Crit on any of that and/or/especially the AAVE is wholeheartedly welcomed.
> 
> I also went a bit literal with my character extrapolation, I know, and this is all probably nicer than it should be. Wish I knew the meaning of "subtle". But I just couldn't resist trying to work up something for these two. I hope you enjoyed this meager attempt, musamihi!


End file.
